Control
by MmeDeschain
Summary: Set Season 4, sometime before the prom episode. Elena is living at the Boarding House and can't sleep. She finds Damon downstairs and attempts to seduce him, Damon takes the opportunity to show her how she's loved. First Fic, M for a reason. One shot, complete. Plz review. No Beta.


a/n

_So, i've never written anything like this before. Please be nice in your reviews. I got the idea from one of my favourite Shakespear Quotes: I do love nothing in the world so well as you. I thought it was appropriate for Damon's feelings towards Elena. So here it is. Rated M. I own nothing._

Damon POV

I sat in the parlor. Bourbon. More bourbon. The flames in the fireplace scream my idiocy. All I can see is the house. Jeremy. The flames. Amidst it all a pair of empty brown eyes. What have I done?

No. The right thing, Salvatore. This will end. Someday.

When? When will it be time? Was it yesterday? Tomorrow? Fuck if I know. I love how everyone looks to me for solutions, and then is surprised that I making it up as I go. Many things I am. Psychic is not one of them.

They'll blame me for that too. Not Knowing.

Jesus. Bourbon. That is the answer. I miss Ric. Stefan isn't around. He's off massacring some poor family of squirrels or some shit equally useless. Barbie is probably leaving her 198th voice mail for Tyler. I'm almost desperate enough to call BarbieKlaus. She might actually have some valid input. Did I think that out loud? The _fuck?_

The flames rage on. I don't know how long I've been sitting here, five minutes or five hours. The decanter is still full. There are marks on my forehead from the weight of my head against the crystal tumbler. Weight.

They hate me, but ask- no _demand-_ that I carry it all. Always making the tough calls. Asshole who saves the day. I'm like a super hero. Super Dick. I snort a laugh in spite of myself.

"What's so funny?"

Jesus, when did she get so sneaky? I regard her coolly from the couch. She's prowling the room like she's never seen it before. Assessing the angles and working out the lines of attack and retreat. Shit. I don't know what she's up to but I don't like it. Switched off Elena is cold. Chilling. My heart aches to see her like this. The Ice queen cometh. "Oh, you know. Justin Beiber tickets go on sale in a few hours. You?"

"Couldn't sleep." She helps herself to a drink. "So…."

I quirk an eyebrow in response.

The silence stretches out. I feel no need to break it. I've nothing to say. Not to this Elena. The phrase 'turn it on' looms large. I can feel it rolling around in my mouth. I'm afraid to let it escape. Not because it will work; I know it won't. But because I don't want to give her any more ammunition to use against me. Also, I'm fucking terrified that she might just turn it back on. And when she does, I'll need back up. I'll need Caroline. (_the fuck?_) So I wait for her to make her move. Switched off vamps always have an agenda. I would know.

"Stefan's not here"

"Nope"

"He'll be a while?"

I don't like this, "Presumably…why?"

She gives me side eye. Uh-oh. She takes a sip of her drink and makes a show of stalking over to my couch. Not Good. I know where this is headed. I've thought about this, how I would approach….but never came up with a plan. As she always manages to do, Elena has caught me.

This Elena is all business. Her hand is tracking up my thigh. When did she get so close? "Sorry, Kiddo. Not in the mood"

She smirks in disbelief. "You're kidding, right? You all but ooze sex. You're always ready to go. What's the problem?" Her hands are still on me, working the buttons on my shirt.

I lift her off of me and plunk her unceremoniously on the chair. "Seriously, back off". I make my way to the drink cart. I need to put some space between us.

"We all have needs. Why are you denying yours?"

I have no answer. None that she would like anyway. Because I love you too much? Because you're not you? Because I don't want to be one of your regrets? It's so hard seeing her like this. All raw predatory instinct. It's also hot as hell.

She's unbuttoning her shirt. Shit.

She's in there somewhere. The woman I love is tucked away somewhere safe. When enough time has passed to give grief perspective, we'll let her out. I think briefly of Klaus, waiting for the right time to undagger his family. The phrase rushes to the front of my mouth again. I force it back. It does not go easily.

Her eyes are locked with mine. She can see the war waging behind my eyes. She has always seen right through me. This is uninhibited Elena. She's horny and looking for an outlet. This is crazy. It's also stunning to realize that this woman was in there all along. Burning below the surface…and I never saw it.

I still don't know what to do.

I know exactly what to do. At the end of the day, I still love her. I'm still attracted to her. She still smells the same. My girl is in there and I'm afraid of what will happen if I turn her away. I'm afraid my Elena will get buried deeper and deeper beneath whatever _this_ Elena heaps onto herself to fill the void. God I love this woman. She terrifies me.

I'd forgotten this part. I can't stand the thought of a stranger's hands on her. I can't bear to allow her to live with that memory. But this will be a battle too. Everything is with her these days. That's my fault too.

Fucking humanity switch. More like a dial. You don't really turn anything _off_. You just turn the apathy _up_. I've got to find a way to cut through the haze of indifference.

She continues to stalk toward me, her hips canting out a rhythm as old as time. Her eyes are drowning out the room. He head tilted, the tendons in her neck stretching elegantly, deliciously. Reaching for my mouth. I remember that night, how they felt under my tongue. How she shuddered as I traced their outlines. I've been standing here for hours. Minutes. Seconds.

The predator advances.

Her eyes are still on mine as she plucks my drink from my hand. The amber liquid disappears into her mouth with one swallow. She peers up at me coquettishly through her lashes.

Her hands slide up my shirt, breathing into my mouth. She smells like her…but tastes almost like me. In the end that's what does it. I can see myself reflected in her actions. I cannot let her become me. If ever there were a fate worse than death- that would be it. I will save her from the years of torture.

I've seen my Elena in there. Like the flickers of inserted images on movie film. It's so faint, and you always second guess if it was there or not. It was there. You've just got to hit pause at the right moment.

The way she's stalking me now, though. It all says one thing. She wants me to lose control. She's trying to get under my skin. She's desperately tired of forcing herself _not_ to feel. Flipping the switch is one thing. Keeping it off is another. I allow my expression to shift from cautious to seductive. She licks her lips and her eyes gleam. "I knew you'd come around"

"Oh I plan to" I reach out and trail my hand from her cheek to her hand. Before she can register the change in my stance I spin her into the bookshelves. I don't touch her though, just my hand on the nape of her neck, my body mere millimeters from hers. I consider giving in. I can smell her arousal, and I've got to admit this could be _hot_, but I've got other plans for this evening. She wants me. Brutally. Unforgiving. She wants me to drill her into the wall with my body. No. We will do this my way. So that someday, if we are lucky and get to live long enough so that this is a faded and dusty memory, one truth will gleam in the darkness. Remain diamond bright. I always loved her. If she cannot feel my words, let her feel my body; let me worship her with mine.

I back off just a bit and nudge her feet apart. My hands glide up under her shirt to cup her breasts. I toy with her nipples, flicking and pinching through the flimsy lace. She moans. She squirms.

"If you move, I'll stop," I warn. I press her hands to the shelves.

She stills, but I can almost feel her muscles fighting her. She's desperate to lose control. She wants me in charge and I will be; but not how she thinks.

I slip her shirt off her head, helping her out of it one arm at a time. As it falls to the floor I slide my hands back up her harms. I pause at the small scar on her inner arm, below the elbow. "How'd you get that?" I whisper.

"Sixth grade science project, "she replies. " I was boiling sugar water to grow crystals. Jeremy decided to help."

"Ah, pesky little brothers"

"Mmm-hm"

My hands wander back up and unclasp her bra. I leave it dangling from her forearms. Why am I doing this again? Right. Got it. Get her to lose control.

I slip my shirt off and step out of my pants. She gives a soft sound at the sound of my belt. I step forward and kiss the nape of her neck, my hands slide to the button on her jeans. I nudge them down her legs, kneeling to helping her out of them. She shaking; already ready to explode. In more ways than one.

I tickle the back of each knee from my position on the floor. I stroke my hands from the delicate bones of her ankles to the curve of her bottom. My fingers flirt with the edge of her lace underwear, sliding between her legs. I'm almost but not quite where she wants me.

I'm no fool. I'm not naive enough to think that I can bring her back with sex, but maybe I can keep it from going all the way back off. Maybe. Who the hell knows? There's no Idiots guide to Being a Vampire, no Chicken Soup collection of stories. We're all guessing.

All I know, all I can do is keep her from doing something she'll regret. I can make sure that when she comes back to us she knows that I always loved her, even when she was too far gone to know what that meant.

I stand up slowly, skimming hands up her body and pressing my throbbing length between her legs. Her underwear is maddeningly wet. She rubs against me and all but purrs. I wrap my arms around her and pull her back against me.

Suddenly my hands are everywhere at once, hers are tangled in my hair. Her lips search up my jaw and finally find my lips. Her heated skin burns where we touch and I'm positively throbbing to get inside her.

I turn her in my arms and press her to the book case. She's mewling into my mouth. I swallow her moans. There will never be enough, I want them all.

"I think it's time for a change in venue."

"Wha—Damon!"

I sling her over my shoulder and stride to my room. Time for the show.

Elena POV

His shoulder is digging into my stomach, but its okay because his hands are on my ass. I'll tolerate anything as long as he keeps touching me. They feel so good, his hands. Just the right amount of callous.

Before I know it I'm falling to his bed, the comforter billowing around me. I feel my underwear slide down my legs and then his hard body is anchoring me.

His lips are on mine. Soft but demanding. His fingers threaded through mine, his thumbs stroking the heel of my hand. It feels divine.

He pulls away and leans on his elbows, stroking my cheeks. Soft kisses press my closed eyelids, the tip of my nose, my cheek. He continues down my collarbone, to the swell of my breast. Finally he takes one straining peak into his mouth. The rasp of his tongue and the sharp of his teeth are exquisite. I'm lost in sensation. This is what I need. To feel without feeling. But it's not enough. It's not harsh enough. His hands delicately trace my curves and his teeth nibble my skin. I want him to bite. To take great handfuls. I want to be used and bruised. I can manage that. I can understand that. This is too…wonderful. Too gentle and …..reverent.

Tears I don't understand and didn't consent to gather behind my closed eyelids. I force them back. No feeling. No.

"Damon…" My voice is a warning and a moan.

"My way or the highway, Elena."

His hands have finally settled between my legs. I shudder as he touches my wet folds. Too gentle. I roll my hips impatiently.

He lowers his head and works his way from my hip to the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. I'm dying of want. When his tongue touches me I practically levitate. My breath is coming in desperate pants and I realize that I wanted something completely different at the outset of this endeavor. Something has changed. Somewhere along the line…my confused mind tries to figure it out, but Damon's tongue has obliterated my ability to think rationally. I am more than okay with this. His tongue dips and swirls, flicks and soothes. My release gathers at the tips of my toes. My knees twitch inward and my neck arches. His teeth scrape my clit and I'm gone. Lights flash behind my closed eyelids. I'm flying through the stars. I'm shuddering and sobbing my pleasure, Damon continues to lavish my sex, holding my thighs apart and sending me higher and higher.

When I finally come back to myself, I've lost all sense of time. Damon is watching me, his face strained. Everything about him screams need. He is standing beside the bed, my hips on a pillow. I don't know why but I want him to feel what I felt. I want him to know this languid state.

I reach for him and he meets my lips. His chest tickles my nipples while below he pushes at my entrance. I arch up for more contact and curl my thigh around his hip. He slips inside. I can feel him stretching me, and he growls. He teases me, pulling back and entering only slightly. By the time he is fully sheathed inside me I'm gasping for breath and writhing with want.

His forehead falls to mine, "God Elena."

"Move Damon. Please. Just move," I pant.

"You feel so good. So right." He thrusts gently. I feel myself getting even wetter, as if that were possible. I whimper in response. I'm not even sure what I would say if I could speak.

His thrusts are driving me mad. The pace is exquisitely tender. I thrash beneath him, urging him on. I want more. So much more. My hand slides towards my clit and he stops me. "Let me take care of you," he whispers.

His hand slides between our bodies. His dick is still deep inside me and his hands press my thighs wide. His thumbs rub my folds, massaging and caressing as he moves within. I can't breathe. I'm moaning his name. I feel his pace pick up slightly. He's being so gentle yet commanding. His firm touches are stealing my control. I need him to come. I suddenly cannot live unless he's shouting my name in abandon. I lean up and grab his forearms. "Damon, Please."

He slides a hand to the small of my back and I bend one knee to the side. He's so deep that the powerful thrusts hit a new and sensitive spot. I'm gone, flying to oblivion. His breathing is ragged, his pace quickening and my release coming hard and fast. The contractions of my walls bring his release, and we shatter together.

Damon POV

I'm not sure what that accomplished. I mean, I feel fantastic. I also feel awful. What if that was the wrong thing to do? I'm so tired of not knowing. Indecision isn't my thing. These kid gloves don't quite fit me.

I only know that I need her back. She needs to be back.

I watch her sleep. She looks so peaceful, its easy to forget that she has us all walking on eggshells. Easy to forget that just the other day she killed a waitress to punctuate a sentence.

I think I saw her in there a few times. I think she felt loved.

~~~~~~~~FIN~~~~~~~~~

A/N

_So thanks for reading! That's all I've got for now. I've got a few other ideas in the works, so if you'd like to see more from me- hit that follow button! Toodles_


End file.
